


The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden

by calathea



Category: I Want To Go Home! - Gordon Korman
Genre: M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 16:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18347291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calathea/pseuds/calathea
Summary: The one where Mike goes to a wedding. Pointless fluff.





	The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden

It was very late when Mike finally dragged himself into the house. He leaned back on the front door, closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe in the familiar, welcoming scent of home.   
  
A slight noise from the direction of the kitchen made him open his eyes again. Rudy leaned against the doorway into the hallway, a glass of water in hand. He was wearing a ludicrously furry brown robe that Rudy’s mother had given Mike for Christmas last year, and a mildly interested expression.  
  
“I’m home,” Mike said, unnecessarily.  
  
“And was a good time had by all?” Rudy asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Mike just sighed, and allowed his head to thump back against the wood of the front door. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” he said. “You have spies everywhere.”  
  
“The reports I received were, to say the least, confused,” Rudy said, not bothering to deny it.  
  
“I don’t think I’m much less confused than your spies,” Mike admitted.  
  
“But you were right in the thick of It,” Rudy said. He sipped from his glass of water, his eyes steady on Mike’s face. “Very much so, according to some accounts.”  
  
Mike straightened. “I was at most a horrified bystander,” he said. “Who said… Wait, never mind. I can guess.”  
  
Rudy inclined his head.   
  
“You need better spies. Or at least more truthful spies. He thinks he wants to be your boyfriend,” Mike pointed out.  
  
“Yes, well, unfortunately for him, I am not accepting applications for the position of my boyfriend,” said Rudy.  
  
“He’d be a terrible boyfriend for you anyway,” said Mike.  
  
“He would,” Rudy agreed. “Especially since I am more attracted to pre-chewed gum than I am to him.”  
  
Mike nodded.  
  
“So, would you like to give me the rather more reliable explanation for why you are currently wearing only most of the tuxedo you left the house in, wedding cake has been smashed into your shirt-front, and you have the start of a black eye?” Rudy asked.  
  
“Not really,” Mike sighed.  
  
Rudy turned and set down his glass in the kitchen, and then stepped in closer to Mike. He pulled at Mike’s bowtie, unravelling the bow. Icing that had crusted into the knot flaked off like snow.  
  
“Turns out one groom was having an affair with one of the other groom’s friends. They decided to have one last hurrah before the wedding. And I do mean before the wedding: like, ten minutes before. And the place they chose was, at best, only semi-private,” said Mike, finally, as Rudy rolled up the bowtie and tucked it into Mike’s jacket pocket.  
  
Rudy eased Mike away from the door, and helped him shed his tuxedo jacket. He held it up and examined the right sleeve, which had been ripped off at elbow. “Teeth?” he asked.  
  
“Large dog,” said Mike, glumly. “But that was later.”  
  
“After the groom was caught with his pants down,” Rudy said, letting the ruined jacket fall on the floor.  
  
“By me,” said Mike, nodding. He shuddered at the memory. “And then by the other groom’s best friend, who turned up and saw too.”  
  
“And since he’s been pining away with unrequited love for at least a geological age,” Rudy said. “He saw his chance and immediately ran to tell all.”  
  
“He was a sprinter at college, you know,” Mike said. “He’s still pretty fast on his feet. So it didn’t take long before there was a huge fight going on.”  
  
He sighed again and let Rudy help him out of his cummerbund.  
  
“It was like everyone had already decided whose side they were going to be on if it came to a pitched battle. The first chance they got, they were ready to rumble,” he told Rudy. Rudy examined the cummerbund, a hideous purple thing that the wedding party had insisted on, with a sneering twist of the lips, before dropping it on the floor. “Like the Sharks and the Jets, only with a lot less singing and a lot more cake throwing.”  
  
“And which side did you take?” Rudy asked.  
  
Mike looked down at the cake debris on the floor, dislodged by removing the cummerbund. “Honestly, neither.” he said. “I mean, this whole thing has been a nightmare from start to finish. Both of them turned into groomzillas the moment they got engaged. Mostly I was on the side of not getting a fist to my face.”  
  
“Mmm,” said Rudy, thoughtfully. He touched Mike’s chin, turning his head a little so Rudy could look more closely at his eye. Mike knew it was already an ugly mix of purple and black. “No luck there then.”  
  
“No luck at all,” said Mike, leaning into the touch. “Though it wasn’t a fist so much as a very hard  purse.”  
  
“At least your face would have been in the wedding colours in the photos.” Rudy slid his hand around to the back of Mike’s neck and pulled him closer, until Mike could lean his forehead against Rudy’s shoulder.   
  
 “And the dog?” Rudy asked, after a moment.  
  
“One of the guests had a very young support dog,” Mike said. “Not sure his training covered what to do during an all out brawl. I stood on his tail and nearly fell on him.”  
  
“I see,” said Rudy, hand stroking soothingly down Mike’s back. “I hope you apologised.”  
  
“He licked most of the cake off me,” Mike said. “The dog, that is, not the guest.”  
  
“I assumed,” Rudy murmured.  
  
Mike leaned into him even more heavily.  “They went on the honeymoon, you know,” he said, slightly muffled from where he was pressed into the furry robe Rudy was wearing.  
  
“The grooms?” Rudy said, almost sounding surprised.  
  
“The groom and his pining best friend,” Mike said.  
  
Rudy was silent for a moment. “There are worse starts to a relationship, I suppose,” he said, finally.  
  
Mike lifted his head and smirked at him.  
  
“Let’s not rehash that again,” Rudy said, with a tiny sigh.  
  
Mike smirked harder. “You didn’t tell me you thought we were dating,” he said.  
  
“You just didn’t notice that we definitely were,” said Rudy countered, as if by rote.  
  
Mike chuckled. He slid his arms around Rudy and hugged him close. “Remind me why I thought it was a good idea to go to a wedding where they didn’t give me a plus one invitation? You’d have protected me from angry women with projectile purses.”  
  
“Hmm,” Rudy said. He didn't so much as flinch when Mike pinched him for not agreeing immediately. “Perhaps we should stipulate that guests only carry soft bags at ours.”  
  
Mike, who had started to laugh, choked on air. “Ours?” he spluttered. He stepped back and stared at Rudy open-mouthed. "Our wedding?"  
  
Rudy raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise not to be a groomzilla,” he said.  
  
“This is how you propose?” Mike asked, outraged. “We’re in the hallway! I have a black eye! There is cake in my shoes!”  
  
“Is there?” Rudy asked, looking down at Mike’s feet. “How did that even happen?”  
  
Mike waved a hand frustratedly. “Rudy!”  
  
“Mike,” said Rudy. He paused, and then with rather more uncertainty than Mike had heard from him in a long time, continued: “I’m currently accepting applications for the position of my husband.”  
  
Mike stared at him. “Can you promise me that this won’t end with bodily harm and cake in strange places?”  
  
Rudy reached out to catch hold of Mike’s shirt, tugging him closer again. “I would never be so foolish as to promise anything like that, not with your propensity for disaster,” he said, his lips quirking into a full blown grin. “But I promise I’ll always rescue you.”  
  
“ _My_ propensity…,” Mike started, but was silenced by Rudy lips on his. His feet squelched in his cake-filled shoes as he shifted closer, but he barely noticed at all.


End file.
